


Cloudburst

by apfelpomme



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: All of the sin, Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Crush swap, Demon Marin, Don't Judge Me, F/M, Genderswap, Half-Angel Adrienne, marichat sin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-22 19:54:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17066072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apfelpomme/pseuds/apfelpomme
Summary: Desperate to flee her tyrannical Archangel mother, half-angel Adrienne turns to her last resort—a deal with a demon known as Crimson Beetle. As an unlikely duo, they traverse Hell and high water to find Adrienne’s missing father. If only the handsome demon didn’t send her moral compass spinning…





	1. Blood Bound

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Genderswap, crush swap, AND Angels and Demons AU...send help plz  
> Adrienne = Adrien Agreste  
> Crimson Beetle = Ladybug   
> Archangel Gabriela = Gabriel Agreste

The heavenly blade hovers over the pad of her fingertip, trembling in Adrienne’s unsteady hands. Her feathery wings hug her shoulders in a protective instinct. Months of illicit research and preparation have gone into this moment. All her stolen visits to the archives, the lies allowing her to collect the necessary materials, they only granted her glimpses into the darkness. but nothing could have prepared her for this. They provided brief rushes of rebellion, paling in comparison to the momentous leap into the void that the summoning circle before her presents. On the cusp of being activated, the ceremonial sigil emanates a hungry energy.

Adrienne can sense it, luring her in to be eaten up and spat out. There’s no going back from this. Despite her limited knowledge of demons, she remains painfully aware of the permanence of a deal with one.

_I have no other choice…_

Her wings are the stunted and incapable of flight—a vestige of her half human parentage. With Archangel Gabriela as her mother, no one would possibly help her escape. To do so would risk the wrath of one of the most powerful angels in the overworld. No, the only way she can escape her home— her prison—is with the assistance of a demon.

_Is my soul worth it?_

The only wisdom the heavenly host deigned to teach her about demonic contracts: don’t make them. Naturally, one would assume the worst. The rational part of her recognizes the foolishness of a deal that would forfeit any chance at future happiness. But at the same time her emotions scream at her: could eternal damnation really feel any worse than this? Empty white walls surround her, pressing in at all sides. How long is it, that she’s waited here, like a caged canary? There is no sense of time passing. It could be minutes, or hours, that Adrienne kneels on the precipice, isolated, and increasingly claustrophobic. Adrienne’s breathing escalates. Her heartrate is uncomfortably fast as she swallows her panic, resolve steeling.

_I’ll do anything if it means getting out of here._

Her arm is drawn towards the gravity of the dark sigil. Holding her breath and clenching her eyes shut, she forces the tip of the dagger into her skin. A drop of blood falls silently into the center of the circle. For a moment, nothing happens. Helplessness seizes her as her last resort seems to fizzle out. Eyes wide with desperation, she fervently searches for any sign of a result. Adrienne holds the knife back up to her hand, prepared to sacrifice more as she notices the fallen drop of blood begins to spread across the charcoal lines of the sigil. Sulfur assaults her nostrils as smokes rises from the circle where her blood meets the symbol. It thickens, sets her coughing and her eyes watering.

Squinting her eyes open as the smoke clears, her vision falls on a looming figure. The first thing her adrenaline filled mind registers is black. Raven hair, stark against pale skin and the background of her room. Where the whiteness of the eye should be is pitch-black scleras, punctuated with blood red irises. Garbed in a formal cheongsam and pants, he is robed in shadows broken up only in the intricate, scarlet embroidery adorning his tunic.

He’s every inch a demon. However, unlike her imaginings, the creature is composed. Far from a rampaging monster, he stands calmly within the boundary observing his new surroundings before those piercing eyes fall on her. Their surprise is mirrored as absorb the situation.

“An angel…” he remarks, voice deep and incredulous. “Why have you summoned me?” Her rehearsed lines, carefully crafted to maintain some semblance of control in this conversation, are forgotten in the heat of his gaze. Instead, a blathering of desperation escapes.

“Get me out. I need to—no matter the cost—get away from here. I wouldn’t have called you here if it weren’t my only option, I…please, help me!” Adrienne is still on her knees, her hands gesticulating frantically as she pleads.

_I’m pathetic. How am I supposed to negotiate if he knows how desperate I am?_

Instead of pouncing on her insecurity right away, the demon hesitates, puzzling on her words. “You’re trying to get out of heaven? I was under the impression it’s easy to get kicked out. Especially for those willing to deal with demons.”

“Not when your mother is Archangel,” she contradicts, emboldened at the implication of her incompetence. “Sinning would only anger her. She’d find a way to punish me here, anything to keep me under her control,” He tilts his head speculatively.

“So…you need me to break you out. And, presumably, keep you from being taken back,” he pauses, moving on once Adrienne nods confirmation. “Are you really alright with being anywhere but here? The mortal world, or even Hell?” The demon observes her closely, coaxing more answers from her.

Adrienne stares at her hands now in her lap. She’d been so focused on escaping she hadn’t dared to dream where she’d like to end up. The place that could make me happy… Her fists clench at the fabric of her white dress. It had been so long ago, possibly decades, but the memories shine through her mind as containing the only joy her miserable life had known. Decidedly, Adrienne raises her eyes up to meet the demon’s.

“I want to find my father. The only place I want to be is with him.”

“Is he alive or dead?”

“I don’t know. He isn’t in heaven—if he were here, I would know. But even if he’s—” she swallows, the unpleasant possibility roiling in her stomach, “Even if he’s in Hell, I want to find him.”

“That’s what you want?” he affirms, eyebrows furrowed.

“Yes,” she asserts, determined now in her goals.

“Then the question is,” the demon taps a clawed finger on the corner of his mouth, “what do I want?” Her confidence wavers.

_Of course… the catch. He might be accommodating now…but the second my back is turned he’ll try to take everything from me._

The focused detachment he appraises her with causes her jaw to tense. Abruptly, his arm reaches out to her, only for his hand to sizzle and recoil when hitting the boundary creating by the summoning circle. He hisses, shaking his head as if pulling himself out of a daze.

“I’ve decided. What I want from you is…your wings.”

“My…my wings?” she sucks in a breath, at once relieved and repulsed, unconsciously drawing her hands up to lightly stroke the feathers. “What do you want with them?”

“They’re beautiful…and rare. It’s essentially unheard of to find an unfallen angel willing to part with them. The feathers are light but strong, perfect for adorning armor,” he enthuses passionately, “It would be a waste to use them on just one thing though…maybe just on the shoulders?” Adrienne gets the feeling of being forgotten entirely as he plans aloud. “Hm…a headdress…or a hat? Both?”

“You want to use my wings for…a…a fashion project?” she asks, aghast.

His eyes narrow, tone going from excited to defensive instantly, “Do you have a problem with that? It’s not like your wings are much use to you anyway…it doesn’t look like you can fly.” The demon scoffs, “I should have known an angel wouldn’t understand—”

“I’ll do it,” she interrupts. “It’s a deal.”

“Not yet,” he corrects, “Hand me the knife.” Reluctantly, she does so, taking care that her fingers don’t cross the boundary. Grasping the handle firmly, he cuts a gash in his palm, without so much as flinching. “I, Crimson Beetle, agree to keep…”

“Adrienne.”

“Agree to keep Adrienne out of heaven and lead her to her father. In return, she will give me her wings.” Crimson Beetle holds out the knife back to her, watching carefully as she repeats his action. “I, Adrienne, agree to…to give Crimson Beetle my wings. In return, he will keep me out of heaven and lead me to my father.” This is it. The point of no return. The demon holds out his bloodied palm. Gradually, she raises her own to meet him. Their fingers entangle as their blood combines, emitting an almost uncomfortable warmth. A flash of red light escapes the space between their fingers.

“The deal is made. Say goodbye to your home,” he states with finality. Using their still joined hands, he pulls her fully past the boundary into the circle.

“This isn’t my home,” she manages to whisper into his chest as a cacophony of magic envelopes them.

* * *

 

When Adrienne opens her eyes, she’s prone, looking up at stars. Grass tickles the back of her neck. This must be the mortal world.

_Moonlight…wildflowers…I’ve missed them so much…_

Heaven keeps strict sanctions on beauties allowed in its dimensions. Gabriela, even stricter. To an overprotective mother, even the night sky could pose temptations to her precious daughter. Adrienne’s half-human composition made her extraordinarily vulnerable to corruption in her mother’s eyes. Anything dark, anything wild, had been hidden from her. The overworld prefers polished marble and gilded vases to the anything from the natural world.

Turning on her side, she takes a deep breath of the flowers cushioning her head. Her fingers press into the soil, drawing up the smell of petrichor. Tears prick at the edges of her vision as she takes in the clear sky. The white walls of her prison had been so empty, so sterile. The density of the stars amazes her. Everywhere she turns is a richness of sights, unfettered, uncensored. I can breathe again! An elated laugh bubbles out of her. Adrienne splays her arms out on the undergrowth, more comfortable than she’d ever felt on a feather bed.

The snap of a twig interrupts her ease. The noise abruptly reminds her: you’re not alone. It may have been reassuring in other circumstances, after all, she was so sick of being alone, but…

She sits up, peering about the meadow. There’s just enough moonlight to illuminate the demon accompanying her several yards away. Crimson sits cross-legged, rubbing his temple with the heel of his hand. He appears disoriented, disheveled. When he assesses their environment, he curses, “Shit. It took more power than I anticipated to break through heaven’s wards. We were supposed to teleport to a friend’s house, this is…obviously not there. Somewhere in the French countryside, I think. It’ll be awhile before I can try teleporting again.”

“Could we…walk to this friend’s house?” she offers timidly.

“Not looking like this.” At her look of confusion, he gestures to his horns and her wings, eyebrows raised.

“Eh, right. Of course,” she flushes slightly from embarrassment. It was so easy to forget that most of the mortal world was ignorant of its neighboring dimensions.

“Normally, it wouldn’t be a problem. I could conjure a glamour for us both effortlessly…but all my power went into escaping heaven. We’ll need to camp here until I recover.”

“Oh.” The blonde shifts apprehensively, pulling her knees to her chest. The lack of a warding boundary between them is felt deeply by her.

_There’s nothing stopping him from walking over here and ripping my wings off..._

While she resented the oppressiveness of the overworld, it did act as a sort of safety blanket that had been ripped off. At any point during their deal, if she’d have but shouted, a sentinel would’ve come to her rescue. Physical rescue, at least. Here, in the middleworld, there was no such guarantee. Adrienne is alone here. Alone…with a demon. A shiver runs up her spine.

“Do you know how to build a fire?” Crimson’s question takes her off-guard and she jolts to attention.

“I don’t,” she admits. There were many abilities her mother “encouraged” her to learn, but there was no need for such a primitive skill in heaven where everything had its own light. “Do we need one?”

“You look cold.” Adrienne’s hands rub her upper arms with the realization that she was, indeed, chilly. It is surreal for her to experience any temperature besides heaven’s consistent twenty-two point seven degrees Celsius. Her feet are bare, and her sleeveless dress is ill-suited for the frigid wind.

_How odd that he notices before I do. Is it a habit of his, discovering even the subtlest of weaknesses?_

“I’ll collect the kindling. Stay here,” he orders, leaving for the woods without waiting for a response. The crunch of his shoes in the undergrowth soon disappears beyond her range of hearing. Ears on alert, she notices how many creatures are rustling in the trees. The hoot of an owl startles her, bringing her to her feet.

_I’m exposed without him._

The realization is alarming. Gabriela might know she’s gone by now…might have even sent sentinels. If she gets caught now, would Crimson be able to break her out again? It seems unlikely she’d get the chance to summon him a second time. Unsummoned, a demon entering the overworld would be an act of war. Not to mention, it’s nearly impossible without immense power. Essentially…there would be no second chance if she’s captured. Not safe with him, not safe without him.

Looking around the moonlit meadow, her feet are taking her in the direction she saw him leave before she can start weighing the risks. Squinting, she can barely make out his footprints. The trees shade her from the moonlight and her vision becomes even dimmer. Senses fumbling, the demon notices her before she does him. “What are you doing here? I thought I told you to stay put.” Relief fills her, followed by indignity for trailing him like a lost puppy.

“I…wanted to learn. How to make a fire, I mean. Will you show me?”

“…Alright,” he complies, the lie slipping undetected. The steps are simple, and Adrienne arranges the logs and sticks as instructed. The spark is more challenging. After she struggles with it for a minute, Crimson bypasses flint entirely, breathing a small flame into the kindling. The fire is soothing. It doesn’t take long that Adrienne grows fatigued while staring into the flickering flames. Sufficiently warm and exhausted, her eyelids begin to droop.

“You should sleep. I’ll keep watch,” he volunteers. The last thing she sees before drifting off is the light of the embers reflecting in his blood red eyes.

_Thank you. Even if you're only doing it to steal my wings. Thank you for freeing me._


	2. Pact of Wolves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Claude = Chloe Bourgeois  
> Lukia = Luka Couffaine  
> Nina = Nino Lahiffe

Tenuous. That is the only word suitable to describe the atmosphere Adrienne wakes to. Adrenaline and fatigue no longer blur her judgement. Dawn has broken, illuminating the tension keenly.

Crimson Beetle is an entirely unfamiliar beast. The blonde has the sense any unexpected action on her part could provoke him or send him running, never to be seen again. Thus far, he’d been calm—that she could tell. He’s all but unreadable to Adrienne. An alien creature with foreign customs and communications. The caricature of demons she’d encountered in tales and tomes was little help to her here. However useless they’d been so far, it is intuitive for her to lean on legends to fill in the unknowns in his character. Which, as of this moment, is essentially everything.

_Better to assume he’s a trickster than give him the benefit of the doubt and get burned._

The effect the lack of sureties on her disposition is profound. Skittish as a deer, it takes a concerted effort to not scream when Crimson shakes her awake. His apparent stoicism did nothing to assuage her constant hyper-awareness at his movements.

The pair is as desynchronized as you might expect. Natural rivals, two separate species, brought together by a freak event. Two animals from different continents trapped on an island by a sudden storm. With no instinct to guide them, only time could tell whether they’d devour each other or form an anomalous alliance.

_I shouldn’t think of us as animals. We’re both rational beings, capable of putting our differences aside and working together._

_Yet…how am I supposed to humanize him with a name like_ Crimson Beetle _? It’s no Skullcrusher, but still rather off-putting…_

“Is it your real name?” Adrienne blurts, breaking the uneasy quiet. “Crimson Beetle, I mean…did your parents call you that?”

“Oh, yes. I was born as red as a beet and crawling around like an insect. It was only fitting,” he explains as her mouth forms a small ‘o’. His straight face cracks at her furrowed brow, breaking into chuckles. “Only joking. It is my real name, technically, but not the one my parents gave me. I suppose I should tell you, or else Lukia will let it spill right away, but my other name is Marin. Not as impressive, I know.”

Adrienne absorbs this information while simultaneously processing the fact that he just _joked_ with her. “Who’s Lukia?”

“Lukia Couffaine. She’s…a friend of mine. You’ll meet her as soon as you’re ready to travel. It’s her house we’re going to first.”

“Will she know where to find my father?”

“Probably not…but we’re not ready to start searching. Do you even remember your father’s name?” The question causes Adrienne to frown. He takes this as an answer and continues, “As I thought. We’ll need to cover some bases before starting the manhunt. At Lukia’s, we can get food, funds, and a place to stay while you try to remember anything that can give us a solid start.”

She nods. “I’m ready to go when you are,”

“Are you?” Marin asks her doubtfully.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“For me to teleport us, you’ll need to come within a few feet of me without freaking out,” Adrienne opens her mouth to protest but is cut off, “No need to explain. I frighten you, it’s understandable. But you should know—it is literally impossible for me to kill you before our contract is complete. It’s equally impossible for you to kill me, in case you had any ideas. You don’t need to trust me. Just know there’s no reason for me to attack you. Okay?”

“…Okay,” a modicum of relief fills her. Blood bonds _are_ incredibly binding. Marin won’t kill her. That’s not to say anything about injuring, however. There is no guarantee she won’t be harmed in some non-fatal way. Regardless, Adrienne accepts his hand when he offers it, the contact allowing them to be transported in unison.

The teleportation is jarring. Fresh air is replaced with the heavy scent of incense, the sounds of the forest replaced with with muffled singing. Walls enclose them, dotted with enormous windows overlook a bustling city. The space is filled with a kitchen, sitting area, and enough instruments to supply a small marching band.

The source of the singing emerges from the hallway—a young woman with long, bright blue hair. When she catches sight of them, she gasps, dropping her cup of morning coffee. Adrienne flinches as it shatters across the wooden floor.

_Rough way to start the day, a demon appearing uninvited at your doorstep._

Against her expectations, the woman runs towards them and pulls Crimson into a warm hug.

“Marin! It’s good to see you…but I wasn’t expecting a visit for another couple months at least. What’s the occasion?” The woman, Lukia she assumes, pulls away and stares at her quizzically, “and why is there…an angel with you?”

“I’ve got a favor to ask of you. This is Adrienne,” he gestures to the angel in question and she waves shyly. “We’ve made a contract. We’ll be looking for her father and need a place to stay in the meantime. I’ll also need money, clothes, food, a phone, and Nina’s contact info.”

“No problem. You can borrow my phone for now, I’ve got Nina’s cell number in there somewhere,” the bluenette leaves to retrieve the device but pauses at the shattered remains of her mug. “Hey bug, mind getting this for me? I’ll be faster with caffeine.”

Marin sighs, but smiles good-naturedly and snaps his fingers. At the simple motion the ceramic mug rises from the ground and begins picking itself back together, the liquid coalescing back into the re-formed cup. Lukia plucks it from the air with a cheeky grin.

“You’re really going to drink that after it’s been on the floor?” he asks accusatively.

“Five second rule!” she calls over her shoulder, flitting into her room. She returns a moment later with her phone, handing it to the demon. “Here. The service is best in the master suite.”

“Thanks, I’ll be back in a sec.”

The two girls are left alone as Marin disappears to make a few calls. They assess each other for a few moments and both open their mouths at the same time.

“Would you like something to drink—”

“Are you a demon?” Adrienne questions. Recognizing her mistake, she colors, embarrassed at her poor timing. She knew it could be rude to inquire to one’s species on meeting them, but her curiosity couldn’t be helped. It would explain Lukia’s familiarity with Marin, and the unusual color of hair. Instead of being miffed at the interruption Lukia just laughs.

“Oh, no. I’m very human. Bug and I have a deal. He lends me a steady stream of his creativity and luck. In return, when I die, I’ll serve him in Hell for a hundred years. Here, take a seat. I insist.”

Stunned by the nonchalance in Lukia’s tone at the admission, Adrienne falters momentarily before moving to sit on one of the plush couches. The other woman follows, grabbing a guitar off its stand and improvising on it lightly while reclining on the sofa.

“You…you feel that’s a fair bargain?” Adrienne can’t keep the disbelief out of her voice, expressing her confusion that someone would sacrifice so much for…luck?

“I do. Before I met Marin, I was a musician—but only in the technical sense. I could play the most complex of pieces perfectly. The problem…I could never compose, never write any of my own songs. I tried for years…music was my life, you understand, _is_ my life, but my performances were hollow, robotic…and none of them were truly my own.

Now, inspiration just pours out of me with every note. I can see connections I couldn’t before. I can look at a person and _hear_ what they’re feeling. Let me show you. Right now, you have something like _this_ in your heart.”

Lukia’s eyes bare into her own as the musician’s fingers begin strumming a new tune. Light and airy, the notes start off as ethereal and in a minor key. The tempo is quick, like her heartbeat. As the melody progresses it becomes bittersweet. Hopeful, and tainted. Adrienne had no idea music could say so much. It feels intimate and strangely eerie to hear her innermost emotions articulated by a near stranger. Equal parts disturbing and cathartic.

“You’re unsure,” the bluenette points out, setting down her guitar. “You question my contract because you’re insecure of your own.” The angel sucks in a breath at the observation.

_Since when am I so transparent?_

The other girl nods sympathetically, and continues, “I was unsure at first, too. It’s a huge commitment. I summoned Marin over a dozen times to grill him with questions until I felt I had enough information to make my decision.” Lukia tucks a strand of hair begin her ear, a small smile on her rosy lips. “He was patient, answering everything to the best of his abilities. Once he finished explaining the afterlife and all its politics with me…it sort of felt like we’d become friends. And I thought…maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to spend a hundred years with this guy.”

She shakes the dreaminess out of her expression and clears her throat. “But that’s enough about me. You must be hungry!” Her long azure locks sway behind her as she scurries to the kitchen to rummage through the nearly empty cupboards.

“I told you to get a personal chef. You can definitely afford one,” Crimson rebukes, leaning against the living room entryway.

Lukia turns to him, grinning sheepishly, “Who needs a chef when you’re here? Besides, you’ve ruined me for other cooks. Your pastries make everything else taste like rubbish.”

“Yet you somehow manage to subsist off of pop tarts and instant noodles.”

“It’s a poor substitute. That’s the price I pay for living the rock star lifestyle. Well…the other price,” she laughs.

The two banter back and forth for several minutes before Marin agrees to make brunch for them. Adrienne watches their joking curiously. Claude, her best and only friend, would make derogatory, sarcastic remarks towards her frequently, but if she’d ever answered with a witticism the way Lukia does—it wouldn’t be pretty. Least of all something to laugh about. The demon had a different manner of sarcasm than Claude. Instead of biting, it was teasing. He doesn’t take it seriously. If Adrienne didn’t agree it with Claude’s mocking it would spell arguments, or worse, the cold shoulder. It became a habit to simply agree with him to avoid being snubbed.

_Is what they have normal? Maybe Claude was just more…sensitive than these two._

“You’re lucky I love baking.” Marin sticks his tongue out at Lukia then faces the blonde, pulling her from the musing. “Do you like croissants?”

“Oh, I’ve…never had one,” Adrienne admits. His eyebrows shoot up in disbelief.

“You’ve never had a croissant?! What has heaven been feeding you?” Most angels and denizens of heaven didn’t need to eat, per se, but many of them prefer to. Adrienne, as a half human, is an exception, needing at least one meal a day.

“Ambrosia,” she answers, a bit befuddled at the outrage in his voice. The golden drink emulates the taste of person’s favorite food, with perfect nutritional value. The only problem…most people who drink it have lived a full life on earth to experience all sorts of foods and conclude their preferences. Adrienne had only lived in the mortal world for the first five years of her existence, barely recalling any of it. As a result, ambrosia tastes like her five-year-old self’s favorite food: apple sauce. It’s gotten old.

“Oh no, no, no. Ambrosia does _not_ do. Sure, it might taste good, and not give you heartburn or hangover,” Crimson grumbles the last bit reluctantly before carrying on his tirade, “but it has no _texture_. No layers. No variety. No… _je ne sais quoi_! Today you are eating _good_ food, damn it.” He shakes his head and begins vigorously gathering materials.

The oven is preheated, bowls of ingredients are lined up, and the fridge is ransacked. One ingredient is found lacking and the demon turns to the owner of said fridge in a frustrated huff. “No eggs? What kind of functioning person doesn’t have eggs?” Lukia shrugs, watching him amusedly from a kitchen barstool. Instead of pursuing the argument, he extends his arm above his head, fingers spread towards the ceiling.

_What is he doing? Is he…is he going to slap her?_

Adrienne holds her breath as she watches the situation unfold from the couch. The demon takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. She feels the air get a bit colder when he reopens them.

“ _Felix leporem_!” he incants. A fizzle of energy above his hand precedes a regular-looking carton of eggs dropping out of thin air and into Crimson’s waiting palm.

 _He can create_ eggs _out of nothing. That’s…different._

Lukia notices the shock on her face, smiling knowingly. The musician seems to register something else about her and scoots off the stool to walk over. “There’s a leaf in your hair.” Lukia pulls it out and tosses it in the bin. “I’m a terrible host, I didn’t think to offer you a shower and fresh clothes. Come on, I’ll show you where everything is. By the time you finish breakfast should be ready.”

The angel _does_ feel dirty. From her questionable choices _and_ sleeping on the ground. She acquiesces, following the other girl down the hallway. After a short explanation of which soaps and towels she should use, Lukia leaves, shutting the restroom door behind her.

Alone again. This time Adrienne’s nerves are soothed by the muffled sound of chatter and pots clanging from the kitchen.

_Help is just a shout away, if I should need it._

She sheds her dress and steps into the walk-in shower. The controls are unlike anything she’s used to. It takes more trial and error than she’d like to admit getting it at the right pressure and temperature. Once the warm water hits her, tension flees her muscles and thoughts begin rushing in.

Lukia seems content with her bargain, but that doesn’t change the reality that’s she’s signed her soul into a century of servitude. It doesn’t sit right with Adrienne. Even if you agree to it, having that much freedom taken away is inhumane. What does it say about Marin’s character, if he goes around turning his so-called friends into his slaves when they die? Maybe he gets a kick out of making the people he’s closest to powerless. Then again…so far his actions have been harmless. He’s currently making them breakfast, for god’s sake. Not exactly a villain-like thing to do.

Closing her eyes, Adrienne leans into the stream, sighing. She tries to guide her thoughts towards something useful. Something that doesn’t lead her in circles.

 _My father. I_ need _to remember. It’s been so long, I can’t even picture his face._

Gabriela would remark often that Adrienne takes after her father.

_Blonde hair, green eyes like me. That’s something. Not much, but something._

She’s not sure if she would be able to recognize him. Even if somehow, she were able to see a line-up of every blonde, green-eyed man in the world it wouldn’t be enough to find him.

_C’mon, there must be more. Something Mother mentioned. A repressed memory. Focus._

They had lived in small house with a big yard. It was all three of them: mother, father, daughter. And maybe a gerbil. She had a collection of toy cars that she’d race around the banister. The one she cherished most was a little green tractor.

 _Why can I remember_ that _but not my father’s name?!_

Adrienne hits her head against the tile of the wall, gritting her teeth. Frustrated with herself, she briskly washes herself and exits the shower.

She towels her hair and inspects the clothes Lukia has left for her. The fabric is courser, heavier than heaven’s delicate silk. The large tee shirt is decorated with the outline of a figure with dramatic, purple hair. There are rows of tears down the back that confuse her. Regardless of the holes’ original purpose Adrienne guides her wings through them. The jeans feel…different. They fit well except for the length. More tears and slits decorate the denim. She’s not used to wearing pants. They are restrictive and protective, feeling not entirely dissimilar to armor. Her hair is woven into her usual side braid. She regards herself in the mirror.

_I look…human._

Ignoring the wings, she could be mistaken for an ordinary mortal twenty-something. The ability to blend in is an ability most take for granted. In heaven, Adrienne was either isolated or strictly supervised. Now she had the opportunity to people watch, mingle, and socialize with whoever she chose.

_This is why I’m here. To live freely, to have a normal life. I won’t let my doubts get in the way of that._

With a determined nod at her reflection, she opens the door, ready to face the world.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Felix leporem just means 'Lucky Charm', but I figured Latin sounds more demon-y.  
> Just a bit of Lukanette (Markia?) while all our characters are getting used to each other. This story might have a few alternative pairings that will be explored but don't worry--I won't neglect the love square.


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